Broken Promises
by Raeghann
Summary: . I wondered why I bothered to fight it any longer it was not the first time we had argued. He didn’t understand he would never understand. In his ambition, he was loosing me


"You promised," I whispered, tears gathering in my eyes. I blinked rapidly as I tried to hide them. I would not break my promise to myself while I watched him break yet another promise to me.

"I have to work," he said simply as he moved to the door. He paused only to glance back at me for a moment. I caught his gaze and held it, willing all the disappointment I felt into my expression. His lids flickered over his blue eyes that, even now, made my breath catch from their beauty. For a moment, I thought I might have finally gotten through, but it was over in a blink of his eye, leaving potent dissatisfaction in its wake. He looked up again and I could see he had made up his mind and the path was set. There would be no deterring him. I wondered why I bothered to fight it any longer; it was not the first time we had argued about this. He didn't understand; he would never understand. In his ambition, he was loosing me.

"You always work; you work so hard you don't even have the time to notice me!" I cried, knowing even as I did so, the words would sound childish and selfish to a bystander. They wouldn't understand, and neither would he. They wouldn't be able to comprehend the aching in my chest, or the feeling that I was no more than a ghost in his life. I wander through his life, it's as though he allows me to watch everything that happens without allowing me to be apart of it. I listen to his conversations and rarely am I invited to join. I doubt he even listens to what I say anymore. I watch him as he goes about his daily activities, feeling all the while like I am invisible. It is as though I've already withered away because of my unhappiness and I am haunting him.

To everyone else, he is a devoted husband. He works long hours and often he is gone for work before I have even left for the dress shop. A job I have kept, I might add, for two reasons: the first because I don't have anything better to do while I wait for him to return from work. The second being on the highly unlikely chance I ever gather the courage to leave him, I would still have a way to support myself. Of course, there is always the chance that _he_ might leave. There is a glimmer of the womanizing boy he was. A handsome boy with a seductive smile, a cool pair of eyes and a confidence that still makes me melt. And I can't say that I haven't seen the same reaction from others. At those times I'm fiercely proud he's mine. Perhaps one day he will find another woman and he just won't come home.

"I work for you," he told me as he turned to leave. I wanted to spit and rail at him, but I knew it would do no good. I watched him leave, my chest feeling hollow.

It was the end of the argument, the way it always ends. I could find no way to refute his words, yet I often wondered if he would work as hard if I were gone? I knew that he would. If I were hit by a carriage tomorrow, would he take the time to mourn, or would he instead bury himself in work until I was a distant memory? Bitterly, I pulled my shawl tighter around myself, chilled at the answer I felt in my bones. I was already a distant memory.

Since the moment he realized I loved him, loneliness has been my constant companion. I had been blinded by him. My mouth twisted as bitterness deepened and I moved silently to the window, watching him walk down the street to work. It was ironic. At first, I hadn't wanted him at all; I had been interested in his right hand man. I smiled as I thought of Max. Max was one of the few newsies that had never been nicknamed. My best friend and I had competed for his attention and to my surprise I had won.

My mind was wandering and I drew it back to the original subject; Jack. I almost laughed to myself. _Jack. _Who would have thought that the leaders of the Manhattan and Brooklyn newsies had more in common than leadership and friendship? Jack Conlon, my husband, the ambitious man who had been the ambitious boy. Even now his name was legend on the streets.

He said he devoted his life to me and to making our lives better, but I didn't care if our lives were better. I would live in this small, cramped tenement building in Brooklyn until I died, if only to get a little attention from my husband. Imagine: I hadn't even wanted anything to do with him when we first met. It made my lips twist into another bitter smile. At first, I wasn't looking for more than friendship when Max had turned out to have more of a roving eye than I cared for. One party was all it took to discover Max was unsuitable and Jack had taken the opportunity to strike up a conversation

He had been so sweet and charming, someone that I had truly had fun with, and, when he had walked me home, I had graced him with a kiss. Not because I had been interested in kissing him- I had enjoyed my time with him, but romance wasn't on my mind. It had been a gift; a well earned one I had figured in my mind. After all, he had walked an hour out of his way to make certain I was home safe.

I'm still not certain how it happened, but I fell in love with him only a few short months later. I think he loved me too- not that he would admit it. He had been a fun loving boy, one that hadn't really had anyone serious in his life. He loved women and women loved him. Previously, he had enjoyed many women's company, but he had never been with one steadily. I can safely say when it came to men, I was painfully naïve, but I had loved him with all my heart. I hadn't been looking for him and somehow he had swept me off my feet.

I waited for him for two years. Waited for him to grow up and realize that he wanted me forever. I think perhaps I gave in too quickly. I didn't play indifferent long enough. Mostly, it was because I had truly been indifferent in the beginning. My indifference was a novelty to him. I was different because I wasn't chasing him, he was chasing me. I wasn't being coy and I wasn't leading him on- I was truly not interested in him. The moment I realized I loved him, I had given him all my heart and we had fought ever since. From that moment on, we had argued over his time and how little he made for me. It was as if now that he had me, he didn't need to make an effort to keep me.

When I'd finally had enough and threatened to leave, he promised he would change. I was stupid and naïve. I should never have believed him. People never really change, or at least I had never seen any vast improvements in him. His 'change' never lasted more than a few weeks, just long enough for me to begin to be happy again before he returned to his old ways. His old ways weren't, surprisingly, womanizing as others might believe, but rather forgetting me in the larger scheme of his life.

Even marriage had not been something he had proposed. It strikes me as amusing that the infamous Jack 'Spot' Conlon decided to marry because his girl was giving him an ultimatum. The boys would have had a laugh over that one. No one woman had ever been able to lay down the law. He would have been on to the next girl in a flash, but, for some reason, I was different. In my mind, I had given him enough of my life. I had spent enough time trying to earn his undying love and I was prepared to move on unless he was ready to commit. There were no flowery words, no proposing, no romantic place, or even dinner. Instead, I had given my challenge and was waiting patiently to be put off, when he said that perhaps we could marry the following spring. Perhaps then his place in the company would be secure enough. I'm still waiting for us to be secure enough to see him. He has used financial security as an excuse many times since then.

I didn't even get a ring until I pressed him for one. It took three months before he finally broke down and purchased one. Finally, I could officially say I was getting married. Still, the engagement lasted for two long and frustrating years. By the time we were married, he was working all the time and twelve hours a day were not unusual.

So, here we are. He works seven days a week, twelve hours a day. He often comes home so tired he nearly falls asleep in his dinner, and when he has time off, he fills it with activities that do not include his wife. He never misses weekly poker night with the boys, nor is he ever late. We can't forget the nights he plays baseball with the boys in the park. They have their own league, playing with their old newsie friends, Brooklyn against Manhattan, Bronx, or Queens.. He never forgets a night, but, when it comes to his wife, he forgets me.

He had promised me a night. I hadn't complained about the time he spends unwinding from a demanding job, but I need him as well. I need him so much it aches. I need to be seen, to be recognized, to be needed.

I lay a hand on my stomach, praying that I might actually be pregnant this month- if only for a person that needs me. A piece of my husband I can keep with me. Someone I can love, who wants my love; someone to turn my attention to and know that they need it. Not to feel like an inconvenience, or the 'old ball and chain'. Not to feel slighted when my husband makes time for his wants and needs while ignoring mine. I would have a little person that demanded my time, a person that wanted my time. I ache to hear the repetitive and whiney, "mommy, mommy, mommy." If only to have someone that wants me unconditionally and for every waking moment.

I close my eyes against the tears. To think, I hadn't wanted him in the beginning. It's odd how life turns the tables on you, isn't it? I sit down heavily on a dining room chair and rest my head in my hands. It hurts so much I can no longer sob. I can only sit there and let the tears fall soundlessly. He promised he would make time for me tonight- he promised! I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, he had been breaking that particular promise to me from the beginning. The one promise I need the most and it's the one he'll never keep. I can't afford to hope any longer. It hurts too much.

And in the end, I know I am too weak to leave him. I can't bear the idea of hurting him. The one time I almost left, the utter devastation on his face stopped me. Not to mention, I'm not certain I could ever love again. I gave him my heart, he carries it with him, and, should I leave, I would be as alone as I am now. Why hurt both us of unnecessarily? What a fool I am! What a bitter, unhappy woman I have become. If only we had a child, I might be saved from the cold, unfeeling person I can feel beginning to take over. A child that needed me... someone that wanted me...


End file.
